


Got a secret, can you keep it?

by Elisexyz



Series: 25 days of Swanfire fic-mas [17]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emma and Neal raise Henry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Tallahassee AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:18:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: On Christmas morning, Emma wakes up to peace and quiet, Henry nowhere near her and Neal's bedroom. Something isn't right.





	Got a secret, can you keep it?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Christmas morning" prompt in the [ "25 days of fic-mas" challenge on Tumblr](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/tagged/25-days-of-fic-mas/chrono). So, I know that Christmas is already past us, but if I don't end this on a round number it's going to bug me for eternity, so I'll try to fill four more prompts by the end of December (I mean, it still counts as Christmas season if it's December, right?? Right???).  
>  This was inspired by [this lovely Garcy ficlet on Tumblr](http://extasiswings.tumblr.com/post/181416354961).

When Emma wakes up, it takes her a few moments to realize that she can already see the morning light filtering in the room and that that shouldn’t be happening, considering that it’s Christmas morning and Henry is usually up before the sun.

She spares a moment to rub her eyes before unceremoniously removing Neal’s arm from on top of her – it takes much more than that to actually wake him up – so that she can roll over and check the time.

“The hell,” she mutters, blinking a couple of times because her vision is still a little blurred by sleep, so maybe— but no, it still says that it’s almost half past eight, and Henry is nowhere to be found.

She checks her phone to make sure that it’s actually Christmas morning, and at that point she’s very much awake and slowly moving towards mild panic.

“Neal,” she calls, giving him a shove to make sure that he’s listening. That earns her a grunt of disapproval.

Usually, on Christmas morning Henry would jump on their bed, eager to get them up so that he can open the presents as soon as possible, and the two of them would team up to get Neal off the bed at unholy hours in reasonable time. Now she’s on her own, but at least it’s not that early.

“ _Neal_ ,” she insists, shaking him more forcefully. “Wake up, I think we have a problem.”

That at least gets more of a reaction. “What?” he mumbles, cracking one eye open and pushing himself up on his elbows, which is probably the most that she can ask of him.

“It’s Christmas morning,” she points out. She realizes a minute too late that right this second he isn’t too likely to be able to grasp anything beyond what she’s explicitly telling him.

“Merry Christmas?” he offers, tentatively.

Emma rolls her eyes. “It’s half past eight on Christmas morning. Do you see Henry anywhere?”

Neal pushes himself up a little further to take a look around the room, and as soon as he’s certain that it’s empty he soundly drops back on the bed. “You think he dived into the presents without us?”

“He wouldn’t,” she points out. Aside from the fact that it’s an established rule that gifts are to be opened when all three of them are present, Henry loves sharing with them his enthusiasm over what Santa brought him, there’s no way he’d deprive himself of that.

“Are we really complaining about getting some more sleep though?” Neal points out, hiding his eyes under his arm.

“Maybe he’s _sick_ ,” she replies. She sincerely hopes that’s not the case, because it’d ruin the holidays for all of them, and she wouldn’t want to catch something right before going back to work either.

“You think?” he asks, emerging from under his arm to give her a mildly guilty look. She pats him in the shoulder reassuringly before rolling off the bed.

“Let’s check it out. It’s time to get up anyway.”

Neal follows her more quickly than she would have expected, and soon they are walking into Henry’s room. She expected to find him asleep in his bed, possibly feverish, or maybe not to find him there at all, but instead she’s surprised to see that he’s sitting on his bed, with puffy eyes, red cheeks, tears all over his face and hugging his favourite stuffed crocodile.

“Henry?” she calls, tentatively, sharing a worried glance with Neal as they approach the bed. “Hey, what’s wrong? Weren’t you supposed to wake us up for the presents?”

Henry’s head snaps up, and he gives her a very angry and very hurt look that makes her stomach clench unpleasantly.

“I don’t want the stupid presents!” he yells, holding tighter onto his crocodile. “And I’m not talking to _you_!”

Okay. She has no idea what she did, but— okay. Henry is a kid, sometimes kids are weird and emotional, you just need to learn how not to take it personally.

“Why not?” she tries.

Henry only glares at her some more. “I _saw_ you!” he yells, like she’s supposed to know what it is that he’s talking about. “You are— _evil_ ,” he adds, and a moment later he bursts out crying some more.

Emma fights the urge to step forward and scoop him up in her arms, knowing that it probably wouldn’t help any considering that for some reason he seems to be pissed at _her_ specifically. Instead, she takes a deep breath as she steps back and lets Neal walk over to the bed and pull Henry on his lap, embracing him tightly as the kid abandons the stuffed crocodile to hold onto his neck instead.

Over Henry’s shoulder, Neal shoots her a mildly confused and apologetic look.

“Hey, buddy, come on, it’s okay— just tell us what it is, alright? Why are you mad at Mom?” he asks, his tone soothing as he rubs Henry’s back.

“I saw her do something bad,” Henry mumbles, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Emma tries scanning her memories, looking for _something_ that might have caused this reaction, but she comes up empty. She didn’t so much as reprimand him for not cleaning his room, and he seemed _fine_ before going to bed—

“Can you tell me what it is?” Neal asks, gently. Henry just gives a brief nod before whispering something in his ear.

Neal’s expression shifts from concern to surprise to— barely contained amusement?

“Henry—” he begins, obviously trying not to be insensitive, because the kid still looks pretty damn upset. Emma is dying to know what the hell this is all about and how it can be funny. “I think you’ve misunderstood here— I appreciate you looking out for me, that’s really nice of you, but—” He shakes his head lightly, a small smile on his face as Henry looks confused, tears still all over his cheeks. Neal turns briefly to Emma. “He saw you kissing _Santa_. Last night. He thought you were cheating on me.”

 _Oh_ , come on.

Seriously?

She barely suppresses a groan, going for a sigh of relief instead and a mildly hysterical grin. For a second there she thought that she had actually done something to scar her son for life.

One of Neal’s favourite Christmas traditions is leaving food for Santa, mostly because the two of them eat everything after putting the presents under the tree in the middle of the night. Last night, he decided that he really wanted to try a Santa costume, and she decided to indulge him and to take a few pictures of him placing the presents under the tree so that they could show them to Henry in the morning and let him marvel at the proof of Santa’s existence.

Apparently, Henry woke up and they didn’t realize it.

“Buddy, it wasn’t Santa that your mom was kissing,” Neal explains, smiling reassuringly at Henry, who keeps throwing glances between the two of them. He looks so small and confused, Emma can’t wait to run over to him and hug him. “That was me in, uh, Santa’s clothes.”

Henry frowns. “Why were you wearing Santa’s clothes?”

That’s a good question. But Neal is good at lying his ass off to get out of bad situations, she saw it more than once during their Bonnie and Clyde days, so she decides not to intervene.

“Well, I— asked,” Neal shrugs. “We heard him come in—”

“Santa doesn’t let people see him!”

“Santa doesn’t let _kids_ see him,” Emma points out, raising her eyebrows knowledgeably.

Henry pouts a little. “That’s unfair.”

Neal grins, amused. “Maybe, a little. Still, I asked to try his clothes on and he said yes— really nice guy, you know.”

The lie is ridiculous, and Henry’s suspicious face is comical, so Emma has a pretty hard time not bursting out laughing and screwing the whole thing over.

“Wasn’t Santa cold without clothes?” Henry asks, a note of concern in his voice.

“We gave him Dad’s jacket,” Emma offers.

“And I gave everything back as soon as he was done with your biscuits,” Neal adds. “He said they were delicious, by the way.”

“He did?” Henry echoes, his whole face lightening up.

“Yeah, of course,” Neal replies, ruffling his hair a little before wiping a few tears from eyes. “So, better?”

Henry sniffles, nodding. “Uh, yeah— I’m sorry, Mom,” he adds, turning towards her with sad puppy eyes.

Emma takes that as her cue, and she steps forward to sit on the bed as well and envelop him into a hug. “It’s alright, kid, you were just looking out for your dad— but next time you are upset, just come to us straight away, yeah?”

Henry nods against her shoulder, and Neal offers a small smile at the relief written all over her face.

“Alright,” he announces, a few moments later, bouncing on his seat. “Who wants to open the presents now?”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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